


Keep the truth bottled in

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke, Clarke is 18 in this, F/M, Jealous Bellamy Blake, Mutual Pining, Protective Bellamy Blake, Slow Burn, The 100 (TV) Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: Bellamy looked at her carefully. She seemed sad, broken, and although deep down he wanted to enjoy her state, tease her about it even, he couldn’t.It was driving him insane. Bellamy Blake didn’t care about anyone else other than Octavia, certainly not about other girls. So what the fuck was this?-Or, Clarke is feeling down because of what Finn did to her, and Bellamy can’t take it anymore.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again! 😊
> 
> I hope you like this two-shot (second part to be posted tomorrow!). I’ve always wanted to write something set during season 1, and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head.
> 
> Happy reading! Kudos and comments are highly appreciated 💙

Poison. 

He was poison, and he had corrupted her heart. 

Since his love became toxic, her mind cycled through emotions faster than lighting did down on Earth. Constantly fighting a mixture of competing emotions, each of them vying for dominance, Clarke was truly exhausted. 

After the reboot of sleep she felt momentarily calm, the day stretching ahead with possibilities — time to get the job done, make sure everyone stayed alive for one more day. Yet she knew that coping mechanism was nothing but a thin veil over the pain, and even the smallest of setbacks would change her emotional landscape again. 

By the evening, the sadness would well up, uncertainty rushing to the fore, and that’s how she’d know it was time to sleep. 

The same scenario repeated itself every day, day after day, at every sunrise and every time the night fell. She didn’t know how much time went by, how many days or weeks this poison had been eating her alive. All she knew was that she was exhausted, defeated, and that she was definitely going to kill Jasper with her bare hands if he removed those damn stitches again. 

“It’s itchy,” the boy muttered under her furious gaze. He was lucky she was so out of it, or else she would’ve reacted very differently. 

Clarke swallowed her anger, feeling too tired to even respond. The disgusting image of Jasper’s chest torn apart was distracting enough, at least, and she found herself not thinking about Finn for the first time that day. 

The flap door to medbay swung open behind her, but she barely noticed who it was. In the span of those weeks, Clarke had learnt that there was a kind of tiredness that needed a good night's sleep, and another that needed much, much more. It was then when she knew that being tired could be a wearing of the emotions too, that it could come together with a tired body, and become an ingrained part of a life that wasn’t lived, but survived, endured. She didn’t think anyone was born for that. 

“All done,” she informed Jasper once she had disinfected that damn injury once more. She thought about warning him not to do stupid shit again, to take care of himself. But her throat was closed, and nothing came out. 

“Thanks, Clarke,” he replied softly, jumping off the cold metal table and leaving the Dropship. 

She put both hands on the table Jasper had just been sitting in, and let her body lean forwards, taking all the pain. She felt dumb. She felt so fucking dumb she couldn’t look at her own reflection and feel anything other than pure embarrassment. 

Who was stupid enough to fall for the first guy who smiled her way? A guy who had a girlfriend, on top of everything? She had never seen herself as a foolish girl, a weak girl who would fall for just anyone. But she was. She really was.

“Everything alright?”

_ Shit _ . 

She knew exactly who it was without turning around. That deep, startling voice didn’t belong to any of the delinquent boys that had dropped from the sky with her. It belonged to a man. 

“What do you want?”, she asked, perhaps more bitterly than she had intended. His mere presence was making her blood boil, and she didn’t really have enough patience for him in that moment. She didn’t have the energy to deal with his stupid, teasing remarks. 

Clarke felt him walk slowly towards her, approaching her like a predator approaches its prey. And she couldn’t run away, feet sealed to the metal floor under her soles. 

“Is this about that Spacewalker shit?”

That was it. She turned around abruptly, her furious eyes trapping his unreadable ones immediately. Bellamy stood tall a few feet away from her, hands secured on his hips, hair sweaty and flying everywhere, jacket too tight on his shoulders. 

“It’s none of your business.”

“It kind of is,” he took a step forward, “When it’s interfering with your duties at camp.” 

She couldn’t help but widen her eyes in disbelief, “I’ve been treating patients all day,” she raised her voice slightly, suddenly aware that it was dark outside, and that most of the delinquents would be in their tents already. She didn’t want them to hear her arguing with Bellamy  _ again _ . 

He changed his posture, and crossed his arms, forehead frowned. When he got so authoritative, she felt smaller. 

“You also ditched me yesterday when we were supposed to discuss ratios for the guards”. 

_ Fuck _ . She had completely forgotten about that. 

But she didn’t have a chance to defend herself, because he continued, “You’ve also lost those antiseptic herbs we bought you last week,” she looked away. She couldn’t hold his intense stare, “So don’t you dare tell me you haven’t been distracted, Clarke. And I know exactly why.”

She wasn’t used to him treating her like this. Sure, he had a go at everyone else in camp all the time, even at Octavia. But his eyes had never looked so cold, and he had never looked so done, so tired, with her. He was telling her off for real, he was mad at her with reason (perhaps for the first time), and it only made her feel even more dumb. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what to say other than an apology. She didn’t have an excuse, a defense. 

It caught him off guard, because as he opened his mouth to reply, he closed it again. His stare was still firm on her, but somehow also softer, and for some reason the thought of Bellamy getting mad at her wanted to make her cry. She couldn’t lose someone else. She couldn’t take the heartbreak of falling out with someone else. Not when it was  _ him _ . 

“It’s okay,” he said, voice nervous. He gave her one last look before turning around, heading for the exit, “Just remember this isn’t the time for petty drama, Clarke.”

She knew that. She was aware that there were a million things that were more important than Finn and her stupid heartbreak. But what was she supposed to do, when that petty drama had completely consumed her heart? What was she supposed to do, when something so minimal had torn her whole world apart?

Clarke didn’t expect Bellamy to understand. He was a man after all, a cold, emotionless one. As far as she was concerned, he had never loved anyone else besides Octavia, and his Mom. And that love wasn’t the same she had experienced with Finn. He could never understand heartbreak, he could never understand what she was going through. 

Which, whatever. She wasn’t expecting to find comfort in him, anyways. 

The days went by, and she tried to stay focused. Really, she tried. But everyone was always asking too much of her, and a simple task would always turn into a three-day job. She was still exhausted, and the heaviness in her heart hadn’t died down. 

Seeing Finn at camp didn’t help, either. Watching him with Raven felt like a spear through the heart, and she found herself falling back down the rabbit hole she thought she was getting out of. But nothing further from the truth. 

The thing was that Raven was a nice person. She was bright, and witty, and Clarke knew she would be a great friend if it wasn’t for… the situation. She didn’t hate her, and it only made things more difficult. Because at least she would have someone else to blame if she hated Raven, but she didn’t. 

It was a dumb train of thought to dwell on, but she was already too deep into it. Heartbreak was making her think things she had never expected herself to even consider. 

A week after her talk with Bellamy, she messed up again. Big time. 

She picked up the wrong herbs. She picked up the wrong fucking herbs, and now half of camp was throwing up because of it. 

It was a poisonous flower — it wasn’t deadly, but apparently it wasn’t very nice for the human body, either. 

She wanted the ground to swallow her. And perhaps it would, once Bellamy found out, and found  _ her _ . 

She was treating some of the delinquents at the Dropship when he did. He locked eyes with her the second he entered the cold metal structure, and she gulped. With a slight movement of his head, he gestured to her to follow him, and she silently did, leaving Octavia in charge. 

Bellamy didn’t wait for her as he walked in front of her, in the direction of his tent. When he pushed the flap open aggressively, she knew she was done for. 

“Get a fucking grip, Clarke, shit!”, he whispered-shouted at her once the flap was safely closed behind her. 

She crossed her arms defensively, “It was a mistake, Bellamy,” but she knew nothing she could ever say would be enough for him. She had no excuse, “The two flowers are strikingly similar.”

He rolled his eyes at her, “Save the bullshit, Clarke,” he scoffed, “Do you know how badly this could’ve turned out?”

“Of course I know!”, she raised her voice at him, not caring anymore about who heard them, “That’s why I’m treating everyone who’s sick! That’s why I’m trying to fix everything!”

“How about you don’t fuck up in the first place, huh?”, he raised his voice as well, getting closer to her. She felt small again, but she was keen not to let him notice, “Enough of that Spacewalker shit, Clarke! Focus!”

“I’m focused!”

“Like hell you are!”

She walked closer to him, as if trying to intimidate him. But he didn’t flinch as she shouted in his face, “Save it, Bellamy. My personal life is none of your fucking business.”

“Trust me, Princess. I don’t care who you fuck,” his stare was so dark she almost confused it with hidden jealousy, “But I care about how you run this camp. And you’re making a terrible job at it.”

Her blood was boiling. She didn’t have to hear any of it. She knew she was distracted, she knew she fucked up. But there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, not after having tried so hard. She knew time healed everything, but damn, this wound was taking forever to close. 

She gave him one last hard look before turning around on her heels and leaving his tent. All she was seeing was red.

Anger boiled deep in her system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and she knew it was too much for her to handle. She couldn’t believe Bellamy had managed to turn her into a fit of rage, of self-destruction. Weren’t they supposed to be co-leaders, support each other? 

The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force her to say things she didn’t mean, she knew that, or to express thoughts she had suppressed for weeks. She didn’t want to snap. Nobody needed her to snap, when half of camp was throwing up because of her in the first place.

She knew she had to get out of everyone's way before she erupted in a furious state. She knew that this feeling would pass, just like every time, but while it didn’t, there was nothing she could do except hurt people. Looking around, she saw a couple of guards in the distance, others sitting by the fire with a sick, tired face. Nobody was looking at her, nobody was paying attention. 

So she ran. 

* * *

Bellamy was annoyed. He was so fucking annoyed he wanted nothing more than to punch a stupid hole in a tree trunk, if that was even possible. 

She was driving him insane. It was one thing to forget about a meeting, to wake up later than you were supposed to. But poisoning and endangering the lives of the whole camp was something else. Doing it because you were distracted by a fucking dumb boy who couldn’t keep it in his pants was definitely  _ something else _ . He had never felt such rage. 

He wasn’t sixteen, for fucks sake, and neither was she. She should’ve known better than to let some boy get in the way of her duties, her duties to her people, to survival. Finn had slept with her while also having a girlfriend up in space, and so what? He was pretty sure he wasn’t even that good, so why did it matter? 

_ Get over it. _

But he wasn’t made of stone, even if he pretended to be. Seeing her so wrecked, so utterly destroyed did things to him. And he didn’t like it one bit. 

He wasn’t supposed to feel any type of way when it came to her. She was a stupid kid who got distracted too easily, and he was the complete opposite. So why did he feel so damn conflicted?

“Bellamy!”, Miller’s voice woke him up from his daydreaming state. He probably should start focusing himself, and leave her alone. 

He turned around in time to see the boy’s alert face, “What happened?”, because of course, something  _ had _ to happen. Just another day on the ground. 

“A few people told me they saw Clarke leave camp earlier,” Miller watched as Bellamy’s expression changed from furious to worried, “She was alone.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

He sprinted towards the closed gate, stopping briefly to take a rifle and hang it over his shoulder. She couldn’t possibly be dumb enough to leave camp on her own, could she? He didn’t think as he ran, unsure of his direction, his pulse accelerated. 

He had never been so mad at her. If anything happened to her, he’d kill everyone with his bare hands. 

The woods seemed vast and infinite, but his legs never stopped carrying him through the trees and the foliage, almost absentmindedly. They couldn’t lose Clarke. Sure, she had fucked up, but she was their only efficient medic, the other half of their leaders. He couldn’t lose her, not over something as stupid as this. 

He was pretty sure she had ran away because of their argument.  _ God _ , what if she died because of him? He would never be able to forgive himself. 

After what felt like an eternity, his eyes caught a mop of light hair, and sure enough Clarke was sitting down on a fallen log, head on her hands. He breathed again. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here, Clarke?”, his voice startled her, but he didn’t care. The previous worry he had felt for her had now turned into pure anger, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Much to his surprise, she didn’t talk back. Clarke simply shrugged, and continued to look down at the ground beneath her feet.

“Did you bring any guns with you?”, he asked, although he was afraid he already knew the answer. She shook her head no. Of course not, “For fucks sake, Clarke.”

He walked around her small form until he was standing tall in front of her, hands resting firmly on his hips. He looked down at her, but she didn’t look back at him. She looked defeated, and for a second he felt bad. 

“Don’t run away like that ever again, you hear me?”, his voice sounded harsher than he had intended, but whatever. She had done an incredibly stupid thing, and he needed her to know he was furious about it. 

But Clarke, once again, didn’t flinch. He let out a desperate sigh, unable to believe he was doing this, and kneeled down until his head was at level with hers. She tilted her head upwards then to look at him. Her blue eyes were puffy, and he realised she had been crying. The sudden stab he felt in his heart couldn’t be explained. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”, his voice was softer now, which made her stomach drop. 

She shook her head slowly, “You don’t care, anyways.”

He sighed again, “I care,” he stated firmly, but the look in her eyes let him know she wasn’t buying it, “I care about you being okay.”

“Since when?”

He couldn’t answer. 

Clarke snorted, “Whatever, Bellamy,” she looked pissed now, and he officially didn’t understand a thing. There too many emotions in the air for him to process all of it, “I’m just a stupid kid, aren’t I?”

Just when Bellamy was about to respond, a distant sound erupted through the trees, startling both of them. They knew that sound all too well. Clarke’s shocked eyes locked with his, and in that moment it didn’t matter what kind of tension existed between them. 

“Grounders,” Bellamy whispered, his hand instantly grabbing his gun. He looked around warily.

“The bunker is this way,” Clarke said, standing up, but he immediately grabbed her wrist, stopping her. 

“Behind me.”

This time, she didn’t complain. Bellamy held his gun in one hand as his other one still gripped at her wrist firmly, his body shielding her from whatever he thought was hiding up in the trees. With her face pressed against the back of his jacket, she couldn’t help but notice how broad it was. 

Bellamy’s body was different from the rest of the delinquents — more built, more muscular, bigger. His hands were large and his grip was strong on her, and she allowed herself to think about what it would be like to be held by him, but softly. 

She shook her head. Now it wasn’t the time to think about Bellamy like that. There wasn’t really a good time to do it at all, not when he saw her as nothing but a stupid, impressionable brat anyways. Sure, he had come after her, but she was sure it had to do with the fact that she was their only medic, and nothing to do with the fact that it was  _ her _ . 

The bunker came into view as the horns got closer, and she climbed down into the darkness with Bellamy trailing behind her. When he closed the door behind them, she shivered. 

They were alone. Alone in a small space, under the ground, for who knows how long. She didn’t know what to do. 

Bellamy, on the other hand, hurried to light up some candles they had left there the previous time, and looked at her with confused eyes when he was done, “Are you going to just stand there the whole time?”

She didn’t say anything, her throat closing all of a sudden, and instead walked towards a small sofa in the middle of what would have been a living room. The bunker was similar to what the housing units looked like in the Ark, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. She had been trapped in space her whole life, and she was trapped underground now. 

With Bellamy, of all people. 

When she looked up at him, he was no longer wearing his jacket. He was looking right back at her, his expression unreadable under the candlelight. She felt small under his gaze, she always did. She didn’t feel weak, or unimportant, or insecure, just… small. And it made sense in her head, because Bellamy was this huge man, tall and muscular and whatnot, and it was difficult not to notice their obvious physical differences. 

But she couldn’t dwell on them for very long, or her cheeks would start feeling warm, and she would feel a tingle between her legs that shouldn’t be there at all. 

“Still don’t want to talk about it?”, he asked her then, voice low and soft, matching the darkness around them. 

She shifted in the sofa, pressing her back against the cushions, legs crossed in front of her. Perhaps he did care, after all, if he insisted so much. 

Whatever. They were going to be stuck in there for a while, so why not?

“I’m still not over what Finn did to me, I guess,” she shrugged, but didn’t dare to look at him. 

Bellamy knew exactly what she was talking about, everybody did. It was no secret at camp that Finn had slept with Clarke, only to then have his girlfriend come down from space. Finn didn’t seem to be willing to end his relationship with either of them, and that was making him furious. Who the fuck led two women on for no fucking reason other than to feed his own stupid ego? 

“He’s a dumb fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, “Don’t waste your tears on someone like that.”

She snorted, “Easier said than done.”

Bellamy looked at her carefully. She looked sad, broken, and although deep down he wanted to enjoy her state, tease her about it even, he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t see her so down and miserable, and it was driving him insane. Because Bellamy Blake didn’t care about anyone else other than Octavia, certainly not about other girls. So what the fuck was this?

Clarke was brilliant in every way. Perhaps a bit uptight, but brilliant nonetheless. She knew what to do in every situation, she found the words when he was speechless, and she always fixed everything no matter how broken it was. She could heal everybody else but herself, it seemed. 

He wondered then, who healed the healer?

His legs pushed him up unconsciously, and he marched towards her deliberately slowly. He sat down next to her on the sofa, his weight making her raise up slightly. She had never looked so openly defeated. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?”, he knew it was a stupid question. Clarke probably wanted nothing to do with him, wanted nothing from him. 

She hesitated, their close proximity suddenly making her dizzy. She had never been like this with a man other than Finn, so intimate and in such close proximity, and Finn wasn’t even a man himself. Bellamy felt different, not just in the obvious physical attributes. He had a calming aura to him that contradicted his usual aggressive self, and deep down she knew his touch could be soft and gentle. 

And she could do soft and gentle right now. 

But she knew he couldn’t, so she shook her head no. 

“Are you sure?”, he asked again. 

She wasn’t, but she also wasn’t going to insist. If Bellamy had wanted something to do with her, he would’ve made a move. She knew him too well — he totally would have. His stiffness next to her only confirmed her suspicions, and it was okay, really. She had never relied on anyone else to feel better about herself, and she wasn’t going to start now.

So they sat down in comfortable silence, listening to the whistling of the wind above, until she felt it. 

At first it was so light she thought she must have imagined it. But then the pressure on the back of her neck grew more intense, and she snapped her head to the side to look at him. Bellamy’s fingers were brushing the skin on her neck slowly, softly like a feather. 

“What are you doing?”, she whispered, throat dry. 

“I can stop if you want me to.”

But she didn’t, in fact. She didn’t ever want him to stop. She closed her eyes, the feeling of his fingers on her skin intensifying. Leaning back into his touch, Bellamy’s hand traveled to her scalp, scratching her hair there carefully.  _ Fuck _ , it felt so damn good. 

“Why are you doing this?”, she asked him, unable to keep quiet any longer. 

“I want you to feel good,” he whispered as he continued stroking her hair. It felt like heaven.

He kept going for a long time, she didn't know for how long. She was pretty sure the Grounders were long gone outside, but she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to feel anything else other than Bellamy’s comforting touch on her hair. 

“Feeling better?”, he asked her then, voice notably lighter. 

She hummed in response, and made the mistake of turning her head to look at him. His dark eyes were already on her, and she shivered. She wasn’t used to getting that much attention. Not from him, anyways. 

The words rolled absentmindedly off her tongue, “Do you like me, Bellamy?”

He swallowed, his heart tightening inside his chest. His hand stopped, but he didn’t untangle his fingers from her soft hair. 

“Do you want me to like you, Princess?”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, “Seriously. Just answer.”

He cleared his throat, “I tolerate you,” he opted for, and hesitated before adding, “I guess I like you better than I did a few weeks ago.”

Clarke gave him a small smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer, “I tolerate you too, by the way.”

He chuckled, “That’s good.”

She hummed again, and leaned back into his touch. Bellamy tolerated her, liked her a bit, even. That made her feel better, for some reason. Knowing that he had her back was strangely comforting, and she didn’t want to think of a world where Bellamy wouldn’t be there to watch over her. She didn’t care if he did it because she was their only medic, because she was his co-leader. 

All she knew was that someone down on that daunting planet cared about her, was willing to protect her, and that was more than she could’ve asked for. 

“Bellamy.”

“Mm…”

“Can you hold me?”

Bellamy’s heartbeat raced, “Hold you?”

He felt her nod.  _ Hold her. _ Hold her between his arms, her body pressed against his in a comforting way. A sign that she trusted him, that he trusted her in return. 

That was a good question, indeed. Could he hold her?

“Come here,” he decided in an act of braveness, opening his arms for her. 

In the darkness, his touch felt a little like heaven, if Clarke knew what heaven felt like, or if it even existed. Warm, safe, cozy, she imagined. His arms wrapped right around her as she pressed her back against his surprisingly comfortable chest, bringing a peace neither of them had ever known before, a calming of the storms in the heart.

Just as the wind howled outside, Bellamy’s hand moved around her middle, warm and soft. In seconds her body moulded to his own, sharing her body heat as easily as she shared her heart. She gulped. 

Bellamy had never let anybody else get close to him like that, but she was so different. He had never known a person to always have the right motivations, even when she was wrong. There was a certain purity to her, naivety perhaps, but she was so fierce, so determined, so ready to jump into action that she hid it well. 

But he could see right through her walls. 

“You’re warm,” he heard her murmure. He instinctively brought her closer to his chest, if that was even possible, and rested his chin on top of her head. 

He could get used to this. But he knew she wouldn’t want to keep this act up back at camp, where they would certainly be the subject of gossip. They couldn’t afford not being taken seriously, not when so many lives were at risk. 

“We should probably head back,” he spoke in a low voice, hating to break the moment. He had never felt so safe in a long time, “Let’s hope everyone is still alive when we get back.”

“Yeah,” Clarke hesitated for a second, but then she pulled away from his embrace, his hands still lingering on her hips as she sat forwards. His touch sent a chill down her spine, “Bellamy?”

“Huh?”

“You kind of have to…”, she pointed down at his hands, and he released his grip on her. She instantly felt cold. 

Clarke stood up awkwardly, taking a moment to stretch her legs, and think about the moment they had just shared. Bellamy had never behaved like this, he had never been...sweet, almost. He had looked relaxed, comfortable in her presence, and it had been the first time they hadn’t argued while being alone for a long time. It was certainly progress. 

Progress and something else she didn’t dare to think about. 

Bellamy stood up after her, and grabbed his jacket before blowing the candles. As he made his way towards the tall ladder that led to the door, his body collapsed with Clarke’s. 

“What are you doing?”, he frowned, even though he couldn’t see her. 

She didn’t move. It was dark as night, and she felt his chest pressed against hers. He could have taken a step back, he could have pushed past her. But he hadn’t. He was right in front of her, stiff, and the air around them seemed to thicken. 

She mentally shook her head. It would’ve been a dumb thing to do. She was just hurt, and perhaps a little desperate to feel something, and it wouldn’t end well. 

“S-Sorry,” she stuttered, and went to turn around and head for the ladder. Until a strong grip on her wrist stopped her on their tracks. She looked back at him, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw him looking right at her. 

It was in that moment when she remembered that Bellamy was much older than she was. She hadn’t forgotten, but it wasn’t always on her mind, either. It was difficult to remember that there was a six-year age gap between them when he treated her as an equal. 

But his strong grip on her, the confidence and tenderness in which she held her was something that could only be expected from someone mature. 

There was a silent understanding between them as their eyes locked in the darkness, and she panicked when his breath got closer to her face. He couldn’t be leaning in...could he? 

Did Bellamy want to kiss her?

At that moment, Bellamy didn’t know what got into him. One second he was furious, angry at her for being a stupid and careless brat, and the next she was cuddled up inside his arms, and nothing had ever felt so right. The darkness around them was consuming, but so was her, and he didn’t know why he stopped her before she climbed up the ladder, but he did. 

It was wrong. Kissing her would ruin everything, it would show her that he was weak. It would be a silent way of telling everyone else at camp that they weren’t focused enough on their duties as leaders, that their minds and their hearts were onto something different. 

But, so what if they were?

He leaned into the warmth of her body almost absentmindedly, but he immediately stopped himself. His judgment was clouded, and he wasn’t thinking straight. He was just confused because she had been snuggling with him, and he had lost his mind at the physical contact. Yes, it was just that. 

“Let’s go,” he muttered then, trying to sound as confident as he could. 

They didn’t say another word to each other as they climbed up to the surface, and made their way back to camp. 

When Bellamy found himself safely standing in the darkness and loneliness of his tent that night, he cursed. He couldn’t be having a fucking crush on Clarke Griffin, of all people. What was he, seven? He was a grown man with duties and responsibilities, for fucks sake. 

As he climbed into his makeshift bed, he tried not to think about her. Not to think about how her small body had felt against his warmth. He shut his eyes, hoping his heart would shut down with them. 

It didn’t.

* * *

He managed to keep it together for three days. 

Three long, tiring days in which he would see her in the distance, immediately turn around, and then take his frustrations on someone else. 

So perhaps he wasn’t keeping it together per se, but at least it was something. At least he wasn’t going insane. 

Clarke seemed more focused, too. She no longer looked miserable, and quickly went back to her bossy self at camp. It wasn’t too difficult to stay out of her way, given that her way was mainly their temporary medbay inside the Dropship, so he was fine. Or so he thought. 

“Clarke.”

“Mm,” she didn’t have the time to look behind her and see yet another injured hunting guard. Seriously, did they run into traps on purpose? She was tired of stitching the same wounds over and over again, tired of reminding everyone that they had to stay alive. 

“Could we talk for a minute?”

The moment she recognised his voice, she almost dropped the metal syringe she was holding between trembling fingers. She swallowed, heart beating fast. 

“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about, Finn.”

She heard him sigh behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t look at him, at the face that had lied to her while telling her that he loved her at the same time. It still hurt too much. 

“I don’t want us to be like this,” he said, “Please, just come to my tent and I’ll explain.”

“To your tent?”, she frowned. 

“I was hoping to have some privacy.”

She braced herself, and finally dared to turn around. The first thing she noticed were his tired eyes, then his unkempt hair. Finn didn’t look well at all — he looked  _ good _ , but certainly not well. Her stomach dropped. 

Perhaps he regretted everything. Perhaps he truly wanted to apologise, make things better between both of them. But what about Raven? What possible explanation could he have for such a lie? 

“Okay,” she finally decided. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t give him a second chance, but there was no reason why they should turn into enemies. 

Finn marched a few feet in front of her as they made their way to his tent, which only made her heart race faster. They were going to be alone, in his tent, and she liked to think she had a strong will, but she didn’t even know herself anymore. 

As they walked, she reminded herself that he was poison, that he had caused her terrible pain, and that he could do it again. No matter what he said in that tent, she promised herself she would not give in. 

Although it wouldn’t be the first time she broke a promise. 

Finn opened the flap to his tent slowly, and Clarke made the mistake of looking up before entering. 

Bellamy’s eyes were hard on her in the distance, and she still didn’t know him very well, but she thought they were screaming a big, loud,  _ what the fuck are you doing _ . She broke eye contact quickly, focusing on the boy in front of her, and trying to forget about Bellamy’s arms around her a few days ago. 

“What did you want to tell me?”, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, as if to shield her from his words. 

Finn ran a hand through his long hair, “I just wanted to apologise, Clarke. For real,” he started, “What I did was unfair to both of you, and I’m genuinely sorry.”

_ To both of you _ . Right. Raven. 

Her heart wrenched, “What about Raven?”

“We...are trying to figure things out,” he said, awkwardly, “I’ve known her for years, and...it’s not easy.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. He couldn’t be serious. Would Raven really forgive him? Why did the image of them being together hurt her soul this much? 

“Well, good luck with that,” she couldn’t hide her anger anymore. Had he really called her in just to tell her that he was going to date Raven, and that he was sorry for fucking her up? 

“Wait, Clarke!”, he hurried to her side, “That's not all.”

Her hand was already gripping the heavy cloth of the entrance, “I think I’ve heard enough, Finn.”

“But—”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off, “I was just a distraction, I get it. I wish I could say the same about you.”

“Clarke, you don’t understand,” he raised his voice unexpectedly, catching her off-guard, “You weren’t a distraction, I promise. I like you, Clarke!”

“Tell that to Raven, then,” she scoffed, “Tell her how much you like me. Go on. Let’s see what she thinks about that.”

Finn chuckled sarcastically, “Seriously? I’m trying to make things right over here.”

“Perhaps you should’ve thought twice about leading me on while you had a girlfriend.”

“I thought I would never see her again!”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“ _ Fuck _ , Clarke!”

She froze. He had never yelled at her. Finn had never yelled at anyone, she didn’t think. Her throat went dry, and suddenly she couldn’t move. She knew he wouldn’t dare to do anything to her, but his voice had startled her more than it should have. 

She looked over at him with cautious eyes. His features screamed fury, desperation too. Perhaps she had been too harsh on him, perhaps she should’ve let him explain himself, perhaps—

The flap to Finn’s tent flew open then, almost hitting her in the head, and it all became a blur after that. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Collins?”, Bellamy’s voice rang in her confused brain until she couldn’t hear anything else. She stumbled back awkwardly, and watched the scene in front of her unfold as if she wasn’t really there. 

“We were just talking, man,” Finn took a step back as Bellamy towered over him. 

“That sure as hell didn’t sound like talking to me,” he was getting closer to Finn, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists, and Clarke panicked. 

“Bellamy, stop,” she snapped out of it and hurried to his side. He didn’t look at her until her hand was gripping his arm, “It’s okay.”

“He yelled at you, Clarke,” his stare was intense on her, and for the first time she saw it clearly. Bellamy was worried. Worried about  _ her _ . 

“I yelled at him, too,” she tugged at his arm slightly, “Let’s just go.”

Bellamy hesitated. He took one last look at Finn, and for a second she thought he was going to throw himself at him, “Talk to her like that ever again, and you won’t live to see another fucking day. Are we clear?”

Finn nodded, but Bellamy didn’t bother to look at him. He placed a soft hand on the small of her back, and didn’t have to say anything else as they both walked outside his tent, and into the almost darkness of the camp. 

She followed him. She didn’t know where he was going, but she followed him, his hand still on her back. The shock was starting to wear off, and the moment it hit her, she pulled away from his touch. Bellamy snapped his head at her, confusion in his eyes. 

She crossed her fingers, and hoped her voice wouldn’t break as she spoke, “Were you spying on us?”

He frowned, “What?”

“You saw me going inside his tent with him,” she stated, “Were you spying on us?”

“I wasn’t,” he said, harshly, “It was pretty fucking difficult not to hear him yell at you, Clarke.”

She tried to steady her breath. She wasn’t used to those situations, to scenarios in which someone she trusted yelled at her, and someone who didn’t even like her came to the rescue. She didn’t appreciate the attention, and it was all starting to sink in. Her knees felt weak. 

“Clarke,” she heard Bellamy’s voice, but she couldn’t react, “ _ Clarke _ .”

She blinked, “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”, his gaze had shifted completely, and now he looked almost concerned.

She felt her lower lip tremble as she spoke, “That was…,” she shook her head, a strange kind of warmth rising up her chest. And then, it exploded, “I didn’t sign up for any of this, Bellamy.  _ God _ , I just want to have a calm day on this fucking planet!”

Bellamy’s wide eyes stared at her in silence. And then, he chuckled. 

She swore she had never wanted to punch someone so badly in her life. 

“Is this funny to you?”, she crossed her arms. 

Bellamy shook his head, an amused grin on his face, “You’re cute.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I said you’re cute,” he smiled, “Calm days don’t exist on the ground, Princess. I thought we were clear about that.”

She rolled her eyes at him, annoyed, “I kind of was expecting radiation and unbreathable atmospheres when we came down here, not a boy who couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Bellamy was full on laughing now, and it made her stomach flutter. She had never seen him laugh until then. And it was a pretty damn beautiful sound. 

He surprised her by putting an arm around her shoulders, “Who knew we had a jokester in the group, huh,” he teased her, “Come on. You’ve had a long day. I’ll walk you to your tent.”

She didn’t protest this time. Bellamy kept his arm around her as they made their way to her tent, earning a few confused stares from a few delinquents, and a smirk from Octavia. 

“Try to sleep,” he said in a quiet voice when they reached their destination, “Call me if you need anything.”

Clarke arched an amused eyebrow, “Wouldn't you like that.”

“More than anything,” he smirked, “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

He didn’t leave until she was safely inside her tent, and even then, he still lingered for a few seconds, debating whether to do this very, incredibly dumb thing. The thought of leaving her alone was suffocating him. 

Perhaps it was selfish, and perhaps he was being stupidly protective when he had no reason to be, but he couldn’t help it. His hand was on fire as he raised it slowly, still unsure. 

Bellamy knocked softly on the thick cloth that separated her heaven from his hell, and hoped he wasn’t making an irreversible mistake. 

“Clarke?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second and last chapter! I hope you enjoy it 😊
> 
> I’m working on two other one shots that I’ll be posting shortly. I really want to write another long fic soon, but I still haven’t found a plot that I like 😬
> 
> Happy reading! 💙

“Clarke?”

Fingers tangled on the laces of her boots, she paused all movement as she heard his voice coming from the other side of her tent. She gulped, and stood up slowly.

“Bellamy?”, her voice was quiet, unsure. Was it really him? What was he doing outside her tent still?

“Can I come in?”

Clarke took a deep breath before opening the flap to her tent, revealing a kind of Bellamy she had never seen before. He looked...conflicted. The atmosphere around them was thick and awkward, and she didn’t know what it all meant. He didn’t move. 

“Everything okay?”, she asked him.

“Yeah, um,” his eyes darted around them, where a couple of other delinquents strolled in the direction of their tents, he assumed. Nobody was paying attention to them. 

Bellamy cleared his throat, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright after, um, after that?”

Clarke felt her own pulse on her neck, beating fast and loud, “I’m okay,” she assured him, “I don’t think Finn is going to come over here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, yeah,” he stuttered. He cleared his throat again in an attempt to hold himself together, “Sorry. I’m going back to my tent.”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. 

She couldn’t peel her eyes off him. He was acting weird, completely out of character. Perhaps it was because of the incident with Finn, but even so, Bellamy didn’t care about anyone else other than his sister. He cared enough to keep everyone alive, sure, but he didn’t care like  _ that _ . 

Clarke had never much noticed Bellamy before. He had been the reckless, older guy at camp who liked to display his power at every given chance. He had done so many mean things to her over the course of just a few weeks, treating her like she was another pesky delinquent to keep in line. But then things shifted quickly, and she saw him in another light. 

She was seeing him in that light now. 

“Wait, Bellamy!”

She didn’t know where she was going with this, but she couldn’t take back the words once they had escaped her lips. Bellamy turned around instantly, the hesitation in his eyes matching hers. 

“You can stay with me, if you want.”

Bellamy’s head started spinning. He must have been imagining things, because there was no way Clarke had just asked him to...sleep on her tent. With her. He was also pretty sure she had only one bed. 

_ Shit _ . 

“Are you sure?”, he asked carefully.

She simply nodded. Bellamy’s steps towards her were in sync with her heartbeat, drumming in her ears until she couldn’t hear anything else. He gave her one last silent look before entering the darkness of her tent, asking for permission. She took a step back, and watched as he walked in. 

“I’ll take the floor.”

She was about to complain, but she didn’t. She was about to tell him that her bed was big enough for both of them, that there was no reason to sleep on the hard, cold floor. But she didn’t. 

Instead, she passed him some of her thicker furs, and a bunch of jackets to use as a pillow. He thanked her quietly, and laid down at the feet of her makeshift bed. 

The air around them was silent, but the voices inside her head were screaming. She didn’t know how long she laid awake for, if minutes or hours, but Clarke couldn’t think of anything besides the man next to her. 

Listening to his soft snores, she wondered what it would be like to share bed space with him. Would he hold held, like he had done in the bunker? Was Bellamy a cuddler? He didn’t look like one, but deep down she thought he probably was. Bellamy didn’t look like many things, but he always managed to surprise her. 

He slept in her tent the following six nights. There was no apparent reason for it, other than a silent agreement that he felt the need to sleep on her floor, and she felt safer when he did. 

If anybody saw him entering Clarke’s tent at night and leaving the next morning, they didn’t say anything. 

After the second night in a row sleeping in her tent, Bellamy knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anywhere else. Knowing that she was right there, safe and sound as he watched over her brought him a sense of calmness he couldn’t explain. 

He was aware that it was ridiculous. No real threats were endangering Clarke — Finn wasn’t man enough to knock on her door, and he wasn’t stupid enough to force her into anything, either. Not because he would literally slash his throat if he touched a single hair on her head, but because Clarke would, too. So he knew she was okay, and yet he couldn’t stop this routine they both had silently fell in. 

They barely saw each other throughout the day, only briefly at lunchtime and during dinner. But even then, he took that time to check on Octavia, and Clarke was usually busy in medbay all the time. Seeing each other at night soon became a necessity. 

Bellamy needed to see her to know that another day had passed, to know that they were still alive and on their way to thriving. She was a silent reminder that they were doing the right thing, and her mere presence was comforting. He didn’t know when he jumped from hating her to needing to see her every day, but he figured it was too late now to fix it. 

He was falling in deep, and instead of trying to climb back up, he was waiting for her to push him over the edge. 

“I need to go fetch some more algae,” her voice startled him from behind, but he didn’t flinch. 

He turned around to face her, “Now?”

“What we have won’t last more than two days,” she had her backpack hung over her shoulder, ready to leave no matter what he said, “Got any guards to come with me?”

He evaluated his options. The trip to get the algae wasn’t a long one, nor was it a difficult one. He didn’t trust anybody else to look after her, but he was busy, and other people were waiting on him. He couldn’t just disappear like that just because of her. 

“I’ll go get Miller and some others,” he told her, and watched as her eyes changed into something like disappointment. It was probably nothing. 

He found Miller and Monroe at a nearby post. The past few days had been relatively calm, and although he knew better than to expect peace from the Grounders, he knew camp wouldn’t crumb into pieces just because they left their positions for a few hours. 

It couldn’t have taken him longer than five minutes. He had rushed to get Miller, and he had rushed on his way back. And now Clarke was nowhere to be found, and he was about to lose his mind. 

“Hey!”, he shouted at Monty, who was walking back who knows where with several bottles of moonshine in his arms, “Have you seen Clarke?”

He frowned, “I think I’ve just seen her with Finn, but I’m not entirely sure.”

His pulse accelerated, and he forgot all about Miller and Monroe besides him. He rushed to the entrance of camp, pushing the guard against the wooden wall and gripping at his collar, “Did she walk out of these fucking walls?”, he spat. 

The boy’s eyes widened in horror, “W-Who?”

“Clarke,” his gaze hardened on him, “Did she leave camp?”

“Y-Yeah, she just did,” the boy stuttered. 

Bellamy wanted to punch something, “Was she with someone?”

“Sh-She was with some dude.”

He released his grip on him immediately, and opened the huge doors quickly, not thinking twice as he ran through the gates and into the vast forest. He was only carrying a small gun tucked in on his belt, but he didn’t care. He was going to kill that fucking bastard with his own hands, anyway.

* * *

The crunchy leaves under her feet were the only sound distracting her from the situation at hand. She was trying not to lose her cool, but it was difficult when all she heard were lies. 

“I just wanted to apologise,” Finn looked at her carefully, “For everything.”

He had somehow managed to convince her to be her companion for the algae trip, and she mentally slapped herself the moment she accepted. She was still weak for him, and Bellamy would lose his shit when he found out how stupid she still was. 

“I told you, Finn. You can do whatever you want.”

“I can’t. Because I want to be your friend, I want us to be alright.”

She mentally sighed. Talking to him was exhausting. He was insisting, and apparently wouldn’t take no for an answer. Perhaps if she pretended to forgive him, he would leave her in peace once and for all. Camp was stressing enough — she certainly didn’t need to fuel that stress with more drama. 

“We are alright,” she lied, “We can be friends if you want.”

His eyes seemed to lighten up at her words, “Really?”

“Really.”

Maybe she could do it, after all. Maybe she could forget about everything for her own sake, and start again with him as friends. Start over with Raven, too. They couldn’t waste their time on petty drama, as Bellamy would call it. And even though she didn’t want to admit he was right, he kind of had a point. Her mind had to be on survival, on taking care of everyone. Her mind had to shut down her heart if they wanted to prosper down on Earth. 

“Thank you, Clarke,” he said softly, “Your forgiveness means a lot.”

She had never said anything about forgiveness, but she let him have it. She could deal with the internal turmoil of feelings on her own. 

It all happened in a blur. One second she was walking besides Finn, and the next she heard a shaky grunt besides her, and she immediately gripped her gun. 

Bellamy had pushed Finn against a tree, holding him up by the collar of his jacket. It looks could kill, he would have died several times already. 

“Bellamy!”, she rushed to his side, yanking his strong arms away from Finn, “Stop, please!”

He was seeing red. He couldn’t think of anything but his fist against his jaw, and  _ god _ , did he want to punch the living shit out of him. But then she pulled him back, and when he looked in her eyes and saw nothing but desperation, he stopped. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”, she yelled at him, checking on Finn instantly. He tightened his fists. 

“What the hell is wrong with  _ you _ , Clarke?”, he kept his voice low, “You were supposed to wait for my guards! Why the fuck did you come out here with him?”

“He just wanted to talk, Bellamy,  _ god _ .”

“Can’t you talk at camp?”, he was getting agitated, and he was holding himself back not to snap at her, “ _ Shit _ , Clarke. Being out here is dangerous enough, I don’t want you to come alone with him.”

“I don’t care about what  _ you _ want, Bellamy. It’s  _ my _ life!  _ My _ decisions to make!”

“You’re my— you’re our only medic, Clarke!”, he raised his voice, desperate for her to understand. He wanted to believe he was being reasonable, “We can’t afford to lose you.”

“Right,” her face fell at his words. She looked down at her feet, and adjusted her backpack over her shoulder before turning around, and walking away from them. 

His heartbeat accelerated, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away!”

“Not a fucking chance, Clarke!”

And then, a horn. 

And another one. 

And a third one. 

“Acid fog,” Finn muttered, snapping out of the commotion Bellamy had caused, “The bunker is this way, come on.”

Bellamy hesitated for a second, but one look at Clarke was enough to understand that he would be doing an extremely stupid thing if he didn’t follow Finn. 

The three of them ran in the direction of the bunker, hoping it wouldn't be too late. Finn quickly bent down and opened the creaky door, gesturing for them to rush inside. Clarke felt a strong grip on her arm, and in a flash Bellamy had almost tossed her inside the darkness. He came after her, and finally Finn secured the door closed behind him. 

Bellamy lit up the candles, just like last time, and Clarke couldn’t look at the couch without a million thoughts racing through her mind. The situation was far from ideal. She was stuck in a bunker, who knows for how long, with a guy who wanted to make peace with her, and a man who wanted to kill him for that. It couldn’t get much worse than that, could it?

Plopping down on a small bed in the corner, she hid her face in her hands. She felt dizzy, exhausted, and confused. She closed her eyes, and imagined she was at camp, alone in her tent and far away from this awkward situation.

“Hey,” she felt Bellamy kneeling down in front of her, “Are you okay?”

For a second, she didn’t move. She knew his eyes were on her, and so were Finn’s, and she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m just going to take a nap,” she looked briefly at him before turning around on the mattress. 

“Okay,” he whispered, and hesitated before standing back up and walking away from the bed. 

She could feel the tiredness inside her like a worm, slowly but deliberately draining her energy. Head pounding, she decided the best thing to do would be to shut her eyes and let the hours pass by. 

Her body was ready to jump into action, but her mind was drifting away elsewhere. It was too full, too tired to produce yet another thought, and so she let it fly away. She didn’t know for how long she had laid asleep, but the soft sound of voices woke her up slightly, and she no longer knew if she was dreaming or awake. 

“Do you care about her?”, she recognised it as Finn’s voice, just because it was higher than Bellamy’s. 

“I do.”

She had to be imagining things. She had to be dreaming. She managed to pull herself out of her sleeping state, back turned to the two men behind her, and listened. 

After some minutes, Finn spoke again, “I just wanted to make things right with her,” she heard him sigh, “I never meant to hurt her.”

Bellamy’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and to her surprise he didn’t sound angry, “You did hurt her, but she will forgive you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s Clarke.”

Was Bellamy right? Would she really forgive Finn? She guessed she had already done it. 

They both sat in silence for a while, and Clarke thought their little chat was over. It was a miracle they hadn’t beaten each other up by now, and had managed to have a civil conversation instead. She was about to drift off to sleep again, when Finn’s voice startled her. 

“How much do you care about her?”

She heard the hesitation in Bellamy’s voice, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I think you like her.”

She gulped. 

“It’s none of your business, Collins.”

Her heart started pounding inside her chest, and she panicked the second she realised Bellamy hadn’t said no. What the hell did all of this mean? Why the fuck was her stomach fluttering at the thought? 

She was sick, she had to be. Bellamy would never see her like that, like anything else that a bratty Princess and their only medic. And she knew she shouldn’t see him as anything else than a rebel man who was too ruthless to rule camp, and yet that was exactly what he was doing. 

But she knew Bellamy was more than that. She knew he was a protector, a provider, a survivor. He had ran after her  _ twice _ , got mad at her stupid decisions. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care about her...would he?

“Everyone at camp thinks you and Clarke have this thing going on.”

She held her breath. Was Finn for real? Was every delinquent gossiping about her relationship with Bellamy? She thought she was hiding her intentions, her blushes well. She thought—

“Again, none of your business if we do.”

They were quiet for a while after that, but Clarke couldn’t possibly go back to sleep. The conversation that was unfolding behind her was too much to handle. 

“I think the fog is already cleared,” Bellamy said, and she heard him stand up and walk. 

“Bellamy, wait,” Finn half-whispered, and Bellamy’s steps stopped, “I just… Take care of her for me, okay?”

A pause. And then, “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

His tone was angry, and Clarke was scared he would actually punch him. But he didn’t, and instead felt his steps getting closer until his large hand was shaking her slightly. 

“Clarke.”

She pretended to be waking up, “Mm…”

He absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, but immediately pulled away as soon as he realised what he had done. He gulped. 

“We think the fog has cleared,” he looked away, “Let’s go.”

* * *

That night, Bellamy didn’t come to her tent. It happened for the first time in over a week, and she didn’t know what it meant. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to be seen with her now, when he knew the delinquents were gossiping about their non-existent relationship. 

It hurt. She didn’t want to lose his presence around her, his closeness, him. And now she might, and it shouldn’t hurt that much, but it did. 

She paced around her tent, unsure of what to do. She debated whether to ask him directly, confess what she had heard. She felt a strong magnet pulling her towards him, and for a second she almost left her tent to go look for him. 

But what would she tell him? That she cared for him, too? That she had wanted nothing more than to kiss him a few days back at the bunker? That his touch had been the most captivating thing she had experienced in her life?

She couldn’t do that. 

Bellamy would never reciprocate her feelings. He saw her as a burden, as a dumb kid who knew how to stitch people up. 

And yet the possibility of him not showing up that night was consuming her. His mere presence at the bottom of her bed made her nights easier, made her feel safer. She knew she could protect herself, but having him there made her feel fearless. 

She put her jacket back on and headed for the exit confidently. It was just a talk. There would be no harm in that, would it? Plus, it was Bellamy. They would be alright. 

Clarke marched towards the door, but she collapsed with someone’s chest the second she stepped outside. 

“Sorry,” she quickly apologised, and when she looked up to see who it was, her eyes widened, “B-Bellamy?”

“Clarke, hum, hey,” he was clearly taken aback by her sudden presence, “Were you heading somewhere?”

“I…,” she tried not to blush, “I was actually going to talk to you.”

He swallowed, “I wanted to talk to you, too. Can I come in?”

“S-Sure,” she stepped aside to let him in, and her heart suddenly calmed down the moment he was back in her tent, for yet another night. She could only hope he was there to stay, “Everything okay?”

Bellamy hesitated. He had never been good at apologies, but he knew he had to make an exception for her. Perhaps he had crossed a line or two — no, he  _ knew _ he had crossed them, and the right thing to do would be to lay it out in the open.

“I just wanted to apologise,” he started, “For having snapped at you like that before. At Finn, too.”

She hadn’t been expecting that. She could expect anything from Bellamy, but certainly not an apology. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “Just… Why did you do it?”

He could tell her the truth, or he could just…

“I was worried about you,” he couldn’t lie. Not when she looked at him like he was a light in the darkness. 

Clarke’s heartbeat picked up, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” he looked past her, as if trying to think of the right words to say. The darkness around them was making him delirious, and his head started spinning, “But I can’t help it.”

She tried to look for the logic in his speech, and tried to listen to her brain instead of to her heart. But her thoughts were shut down, and only emotions prevailed. And she couldn’t act on emotions. It never ended well. 

“Your only medic can take of herself,” she gave him a small smile, but he frowned. 

He couldn’t lie to her, “I’m not worried about you just because you’re our only medic, Clarke.”

Her palms started sweating, “You told me that.”

“I told you a lot of things that I now regret.”

“Like what?”, she swallowed. 

The world seemed to stop around them. Her tent was deserted, and so was camp, and the whole universe seemed to be empty at that moment. It was just them, and his dark eyes staring back at her blue ones. 

“You’re not… you’re not a brat,” he said, voice low, “And I should give you more credit for what you have to go through.”

Her throat was dry, “Thank you for saying that,” she hesitated, “You...you’re not a total ass, either.”

Bellamy chuckled, “Thank you.”

She gave him a shy smile, “I guess we won’t kill each other after all.”

“I’d never do that,” he smirked. A few seconds passed between them in comfortable silence, until a switch flipped in his mind, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“It was nothing,” she blurted out. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

They stayed quiet for a while, looking at everything but each other’s eyes, and debating their next move. Bellamy thought he should probably leave. Clarke wanted nothing more than for him to stay. 

She looked up slowly, searching for his gaze. When their eyes locked, he felt a shiver down his spine, and suddenly her body was a magnet. He wanted to stay away, but he couldn’t. 

Bellamy started taking off his boots, just like every night, but giving her enough time to stop him. She didn’t. Clarke watched with cautious eyes as he then stripped down his jacket, placing it softly on a nearby wooden table. 

They didn’t say a word to each other as they laid down on their usual spots, but they didn’t have to. The silence between them was loud enough. 

The hours passed, and the night grew even darker outside, but she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t close her eyes when her brain was working tirelessly to shut down her heart, and failing miserably. 

She should say something. They should...talk things out. She needed to know what his words with Finn had meant, if he felt the same hesitation. She counted to three, and prepared to open her mouth. But by the time she reached three, she had lost her voice. 

Clarke mentally shook her head. This had to be done, or it would go on forever and potentially ruin everything. If he didn’t feel the same, if she had imagined everything, at least the fall would be short and quick, and she would be back on her feet in no time. 

She had to do this for herself. 

“Are you awake?”, she whispered to his side. 

Silence. She felt her heart drop. Her courage had been in vain, and she knew she wouldn’t feel brave enough in the morning. 

“Yeah.”

At first she thought she was imagining things. But she turned on her side quickly, and peered down her bed to see Bellamy’s wide eyes staring back at her. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He grunted, “Not really.”

She didn’t know what go into her when she said the words, but as they rolled off her tongue she knew there was no going back. 

“Want to climb up to my bed?”

Bellamy hesitated for a second, “With you?”

She tried not to sound nervous, “There’s enough room.”

She thought he wouldn’t do it, that he would say it was best if he kept sleeping on the floor. But then she felt him move, and he eventually sat down on the floor, only to push his weight up and on the bed next to her. 

Clarke moved away a few inches against the wall to make room for him, and when his back collapsed with the mattress beneath him, he couldn’t help but smile, “This feels so much better.”

“You could’ve slept on a mattress all this time,” she arched a playful eyebrow. 

“And leave you alone? I don’t think so,” he smirked, “You’d miss me too much.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, “Well, you could’ve always slept in  _ my _ mattress.”

“Is that so?”, he was teasing. 

“Uh-huh.”

He let out a low chuckle, which made her heart flutter. Hearing his laugh was one of her favourite sounds in the world. Who knew such a human sound would be her most favourite sound in such an exotic planet. 

Bellamy’s eyes lingered on her for a few seconds that felt like a whole lifetime. She debated whether to speak up then, or just stay quiet. But just in that moment he turned around to face her, still keeping his distance, and she noticed that his fingers were brushing hers. 

His heart had never beaten so fast. A single touch and he was a goner, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t articulate his words. Clarke looked peaceful just laying there with him, in such close promixity someone could think something else was going on if they walked in. The warmth that emanated from her body was intoxicating. 

He could set fire to the world around him in that moment, but he would never let a flame touch her. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” her lips curved in a small, shy smile that he couldn’t help but mirror. 

He let out a low chuckle that echoed through the darkness, “Like what?”

“Like you want me.”

She was aware of the words that had just rolled off her tongue, but she wasn’t going to take them back. Bellamy’s stare had never been darker, had never been more consuming, and she was done being a coward. Whatever his intentions were with her, she wanted to know. She  _ needed _ to know. 

“I want…,” she watched as his voice hesitated, and then stopped, “Nevermind what I want, Clarke.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“Clarke.”

“Bellamy.”

He sighed, and turned around so that he was facing the low ceiling of her tent. The first thing she noticed was that his fingers were no longer brushing hers, his warmth gone. 

“What do you want, Bellamy?”, she asked him carefully, voice low. 

For a second, she panicked. She panicked at the possibility of him wanting the same thing that she did, because what would it mean? Would their relationship change after this, get ruined? It wouldn’t be worthy. She would rather—

“You.”

Always her. It was always her, even during the toughest times. He couldn’t look into her eyes for too long and tell her he didn’t feel anything, tell her his heart didn’t flutter at the sight of her smile. Bellamy didn’t know what to call it, whatever it was happening between them, but he unexpectedly liked it. It left him feeling fragile, and a little silly, and he had never felt like that before. It felt...good. 

Clarke’s breath stopped, and she tried to look for any hints that it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But it wasn’t, and now she didn’t know what to do. 

He softened her in ways she didn’t think were possible, which was ironic, because one look at Bellamy and the first word that would come to mind to describe him certainly wouldn’t be ‘soft’. And yet storms ran through her veins every time his eyes were on her. He made her feel so good so effortlessly. 

“Forget what I said.”

“Bell—”

He used his elbows to push himself up the bed, but she quickly stopped him. He looked down at her, and he didn’t want to feel what he was feeling, but it was too late now. 

He swallowed, “Stop looking at me like you want me, because we both know you don’t.”

In a swift movement, she pushed herself up slightly on the bed, and closed her eyes just as her lips touched his softly. It took him a second to realise what was going on, but when he did, he kissed her back. 

He kissed her as if he needed the breath she was holding, as if it belonged to him. His hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her into his chest as he savoured the joyful taste of her mouth. And god, she felt like heaven down on Earth. 

When she pulled away shyly, delicately, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Her mouth belonged to him now, and his lips belonged to her, and it had never felt so right. 

Hand still on the back of her neck, he pushed her forwards slightly, just so that he could press his lips against hers this time, slowly, to seal whatever silent words they had exchanged in the darkness. 

Clarke was surprised she could even find her voice, her breath, “Did you want this, Bellamy?”

His voice was shaking as he spoke, “For so long, Clarke.”

Her heart jumped, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And ruin this?”

“You didn’t know how I felt.”

“I wasn’t feeling optimistic.”

She couldn’t help but smirk, “I thought the great Bellamy Blake never got rejected.”

He chuckled, “Don’t push it, Princess.”

“Or what?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, just because  _ of course _ she was going to push his buttons. He closed the slim distance between them, capturing her intoxicating lips between his yet again. Nothing had ever felt so good, nothing had ever made him feel so damn full. 

She was his breath of fresh air, and he longed to keep breathing forever. 

Bellamy had read countless books in his short life, countless words and pages that touched every single topic there ever was. Some of them talked about love at first sight, the feeling of sparks flying when you met the one. They all talked about how, if you loved somebody, you knew right away. 

He didn’t think that was true in the slightest. 

He didn’t love Clarke at first sight — he didn’t even like her. He didn’t know her, and he had never loved somebody he didn’t know. Nothing flew when he first saw her, no sparks, no sudden realisations. 

They weren’t even friends, and at first he doubted they would ever be. Their personalities collided, and so did their stubborn desires to be heard. It wasn’t until she became his partner, the second lung of camp, that he started really  _ seeing _ her. She was no longer a spoiled, privileged brat who didn’t want to get her combat boots ruined. 

She was brilliant, beautiful, snarky Clarke Griffin. 

Loving her crept up on him, and it wasn’t until he almost lost her to Finn Collins that he realised how deep he was. There wasn’t a big, romantic moment like in the books, because he knew that love wasn’t like that. Love was consuming, confusing, and silly. But it left a sweet aftertaste in his mouth, just like kissing her did. 

And perhaps he wasn’t ready to tell her that he loved her just yet. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear it, either. But he was willing to go slow, to walk every step with her. 

One day he would be strong enough to admit that kissing her that night had changed his life, had changed his heart. He was no longer the same man. That night, he changed into the man she deserved, the man she needed, and the man he deep down knew he really was. 

Love doesn’t happen at first sight, Bellamy thought as their lips parted, and Clarke’s face buried into his chest. He held her close to his body as the first lights of a new day creeped up the horizon, and he planted a trail of soft kisses on the crown of her head when he felt her snore lightly. 

Love, like all good things, occurs when you least expect it. 


End file.
